


One Step at a Time

by daisybrien



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Amputation, Amputee Hange Zoe, Angst, Death, F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybrien/pseuds/daisybrien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tragedy strikes Hange's squad while on a mission, and she is left to cope with the aftermath. (For Levihan Week)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Step at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at some point in July while I was stuck in bed after having my wisdom teeth taken out. So I edited it and posted because this fic has been bothering me for months. Here you go.

Hange wakes up feeling like a sack of shit.

Every part of her body aches, her arms heavy and impossible to lift. Pain blooms in different parts of her torso, growing and ebbing with the rise and fall of her chest. Her head feels like a balloon being handled by a careless child, pressure pushing at her forehead and temples. Her knees prickle with agony.

She attempts to open her eyes, squeezing them shut again as light floods her vision, eyes burning, the pain in her head reaching a crescendo. Muffled voices buzz around her, moving in different directions, some in the form of barked orders, others in the moans of soldiers in pain. She can hear the squeaking wheels of a gurney pass in front of her. The sharp, unpleasant smell of antiseptic fills the air. She realizes she is in the medical bay.

Hange lifts her hand to shield her eyes, her arm shaking in her state of weakness. A bandage winds around her wrist. She turns her head to both sides, crisp white curtains blocking her view of the soldiers in neighboring beds.

Her mind races, trying to remember what had brought her into the medical bay in the first place. She remembers a titan’s fist around her chest, remembers its gaping maw close to her face. The rest was a blur of pain and blood, an unbearable agony wracking her frame, blurring the voices of her panicked squad. 

Panic builds in her chest, questions flooding her mind. Where were the soldiers from her squad? What happened during the mission? Where is Levi?  
Hange moves into an upright position, propping herself up on her elbows, dragging the bed sheets behind her as she moves across the mattress. She needs to get up, find out where everyone is, make sure everyone is okay. Despite the throbbing pain in her legs, she pushes herself to the edge of the bed and moves to stand.  
She finds herself face to face with the floor.

The impact with the ground knocks the breath out of her chest, the pain spreading through her ribs. A drawn out groan escapes her lips in an effort to turn over. Medics rush to her aid, trying to lift her, but she swats them away.

“I don’t need your help,” she grumbles, pushing their hands off her shoulders. She attempts to disentangle herself from the sheets wrapped around her. “I can get up myself.”

She can’t get up herself, no matter how much she denies it. The linens keep tangling themselves around her body, constricting her and making every movement a hassle. Each gesture sends pain shooting through her body. Every time she tries to hoist herself up, her legs don’t seem to hold her. Flailing, she finally frees herself, tearing the bed sheets from her waist.

Hange freezes in her actions, her stomach plummeting, shock edging the contours of her face. Her breathing becomes sporadic in her panic, her heart pounding in her chest. The two medics beside her press their hands to her back, hoisting her back onto the bed. She feels dizzy, black spots clouding her vision, the room spinning around her. Looking down, Hange stares in horror at her legs.

What is left of her legs. 

They end just above the knees, the stumps of her thighs wrapped in white bandages dotted brown with dried blood. Everything from the knee down completely gone.  
Her vision goes black.  
#

 

She wakes up with Levi at her bedside.

“You look like horse shit,” Levi remarks as she sits up, passing her glasses to her. 

“Of course I look like horse shit, I lost my fucking legs,” she growls. Hange yanks the glasses out of his hand, placing them on her nose. Under normal circumstances, she would have understood his blunt personality and responded with some witty remark. Instead, anger bubbles in her chest. She can see the surprise in Levi’s face, and he turns away slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Hange sighs, “it’s just… I’m still trying to grasp this, I mean…”

“You lost your fucking legs,” he finishes the sentence for her.

She turns her head down, hands tracing the white strips of bandage around the end of her thighs. The shock that she had felt in the beginning was starting to fade, leaving her dumbfounded. It felt strange, as if the rest of her limbs were still there, could still feel the wriggling of her toes and the bending of her knees.

Hange takes a deep breath. “How long was I unconscious for?”

“A few days,” Levi replies. “Originally, you had only lost the right calf, but your left leg was damaged beyond repair. The medics thought it would be better to chop it off before it ended up with some nasty infection.”

“What happened during the mission?”

Levi sighs, adjusting his position in his chair. “It was a success, but…” he pauses, running a hand over his mouth, “we lost a lot of good soldiers out there.”

They sit quietly for a moment, staring off into space. Snippets of her memory had returned while she was awake. Everything had been running smoothly, there had only been a few Titans nearby, ones she could have taken down easily. After that, the only details she had deciphered were the dark maw of the titan, the sound of her flesh being torn from bone, and the terrified screams of her squad. Her squad…

“Levi,” Hange starts, her mouth dry. When she looks at him, he averts his eyes. “Where is my squad?”

Levi hangs his head, his hand moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. Despair seems to distort his face, his brow furrowed, the bags under his eyes ever present. He chokes out his response.

“Moblit’s dead.”

Hange shakes her head, fingers digging into the bed sheets, anger beginning to boil in her stomach. It’s not possible, she thinks. Moblit’s bloody image fills her head, as she remembers the hand he had held out to pull her to safety. Not after the shit he’s been through, not after the death of her old squad. Levi sighs before he confirms the thoughts in her mind.

Hange’s fingernails dig into her palms, making small indentations into her skin. Her fists start to shake, her breathing heavy as fury burns in her throat.

“I told him not to risk his life like that.” she chokes out, her teeth grinding together. “I told them not to try and save me.” Tears start to blur her vision. “I told them that they were supposed to take orders from you if something happened to me.” 

“Hange,” Levi starts, reaching a hand to rest on her shoulder. She moves away from him. “Hange there was nothing we could have done to save him -“

“I told them they were supposed to follow your orders.”

“Hange, there was nothing we could do, your squad was going to help you anyway.”

Her hand flies up, gripping the cravat around Levi’s collar. She pulls him towards her. They are close enough to bump noses, and she is able to see every small wrinkle in his face, every pink vein in his terrified eyes. She growls at him through clenched teeth, spit threatening to fly out of her mouth.

“I told them they were supposed to listen to you! Why didn’t you tell them to retreat?! Why didn’t you tell them to leave me there?!” She starts to shake him by his collar, and tears threaten to spill over her cheeks. She starts slipping over the edge of the mattress in her hysteria, and doesn’t bother adjusting herself. “ God fucking dammit Levi, they were supposed to listen to you!”

He grips her shoulders, his fingers digging into her gown hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He responds to her with the same ferocity. “Do you think I wanted him to die?! Holy fuck Hange, do you think I want anyone to die?!” He jumps out of his seat abruptly, the chair scraping backwards. He turns away from her, pacing, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Shit Hange you know what happened last time, you know what happens every time I end up with your squad…” 

He suddenly stops, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He sinks back into his chair, slumped over with his head in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his hands flopping down on his knees. “I’m sorry.”

The tears freely stream down Hange’s cheeks, and she buries her face in her hands. “Levi don’t do this,” Hange sobs, her voice muffled by her palms. The anger in her gut seemed to have evaporated, replaced with the heavy feeling of sorrow. “I didn’t mean it like that, it’s not your fault, I’m sorry, none of this was your fault. Not from before, not now, you didn’t do anything wrong, I’m sorry.”

The rest of her words are incomprehensible through her tears, coming out as muffled gibberish from under her hands. She feels arms slip under her armpits, lifting her into bed. Levi sits beside her, his hands moving around her in order to pull her closer. One of his hands moves to run his finger through her greasy hair, while Hange’s arms encircle his neck. They sit on the mattress, arms circled around each other, swaying to the rhythm of their breathing as they whisper soft reassurances and quiet apologies they can barely hear over the buzz of the medical ward. 

“I miss them,” Hange murmurs after a while, the two of them holding each other silently. She feels Levi’s mouth press a kiss against her temple. Leaning her head on his shoulder, eyelids drooping in her exhaustion, she falls asleep. 

He’s still there when she wakes up.

#

It’s takes two weeks, three prescriptions for pain medication - two of which gave her a rash, an endless amount of trips to the Scouting Legion’s physician and five ripped stitches before she is finally discharged from the medical ward. Levi pushes her around in a rickety, wooden wheelchair, the wheels catching in every crack or dent in the floor. 

When they finally make their way to the mess hall, Hange finds herself swarmed by concerned soldiers. Armin makes his way through once the crowd starts to disappear, kneeling at her side, arms laden with stacks of paper and rolled up maps. “Good to see you’re finally out of the hospital,” he says. “There were a lot of reports we had to catch up on, of course I wasn’t going to send them to you while you were recovering, so I filled out what I could and organized the rest as best as I-“

“Armin, you should stop to breathe every once in a while,” Levi interrupts.  
Hange laughs, taking some of the papers in his hands. “I’ll get to these as soon as I can. Don’t worry about organizing anything, that’s not your job.”

She sees Armin open his mouth, as if he wants to say something. He was going to mention Moblit, Hange thinks, chest constricting as if a fist were squeezing her heart. He looks down at the floor, shifting the paperwork in the crook of his elbow. “I’ll put the rest on your desk,” he mutters, and then gets up to leave, looking down dejectedly at his feet.

Dinner is a short affair, and Hange and Levi leave as quietly as the wheelchair can manage. They argue about whether they should bring the chair up the stairs to where their rooms are, Hange convincing him that he can leave it in one of the broom closets, and that she can easily scoot up the stairs on her backside. Disgusted by the idea of sitting across the dirty floors, Levi carries her up instead.

“This is going to take some getting used to,” Hange states, sitting in front of the paperwork on her desk. Levi snorts from his position on her bed. Skimming through it, she notices that half of it has already been filled out, a few of the papers even ready to be submitted to Erwin. Moblit pops into her mind again, tears threatening to spill over. She decides that the paperwork can wait. Flopping out of her chair, she shuffles her way over to the foot of the bed, slowly lifting herself to lie down beside Levi.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” Hange says, eyes looking up to the ceiling. “You’ve been beside me almost every other day in the medical bay. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m not here to take care of you,” he retorts. He looks over his side of the bed, making a face of disgust at the dust building up on the floor. “Although this place needs to be cleaned. It’s fucking filthy, especially if you’re going to refuse to use the chair. I don’t want you that close to all this fucking dirt.”

Hange snorts beside him, staring pensively at the ceiling.

“Do you think they can make the prosthetics compatible with maneuver gear?” Hange muses.

She hears Levi sigh beside her. “You should be focusing on learning how to walk with them, Shitty-Glasses.”

“Well, I can’t sit in front of a desk the rest of my life, Levi.”

Levi pinches his nose, “Hange,” he speaks slowly, as if trying to find the right words. Despite his effort, his words come out as blunt as they always do. “The physician talked to you about what you should expect.”

“And she told me she could try to make prosthetics that would work with the gear!” Hange responds, trying to defend herself.

“Hange, I don’t mean to crush your overwhelming optimism, but you’re overestimating the capability you have now. You’re going to end up with wooden legs, it’s going to take you months to learn how to walk properly - Hange how the hell do you expect to navigate those legs while you’re flying through the air?!”

Hange sits up, indignant at his comments. “You don’t seem to think I’m capable of working again.”

He follows her movements, trying to explain himself. He sits cross-legged in front of her. “I think you’re capable, I just don’t think you realize that you’re going to be limited because of this. Going outside the walls might not be a possibility anymore.”

Hange can feel her stomach sinking at the reality. Her mind is boggled by the incident itself, how one minute everything was going well, and in the next minute everything was flown into chaos, how one second had cost her legs, had cost Moblit’s life.  
She doesn’t care how long it will take her. Part of her life is the Scouting Legion, and she will work tooth and nail in order to fight for humanity. She swallows the lump threatening to form in her throat, looking up at Levi. 

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.”

#

 

“It’s two in the morning Shitty-Glasses, what is it?”

Hange sits up in bed, her brow furrowed. She utters small groans of pain, gripping the sheets below the two stumps of her legs. It’s been months since the initial incident, yet the pain in her legs - is it really in her legs? - keeps showing up at the worst time. She tries to ignore the strange sensation, especially after seeing Levi in his sleep-deprived state. She doesn’t want to exhaust him, particularly after a rather difficult mission, one in which she was not able to accompany him.

Levi sighs, getting up despite Hange’s protests. “Somethin’ hurt?” 

Shit, she can hear the exhaustion in his voice. He leans over to light the candle sitting by the bedside table. The flickering light casts eerie shadows across the sharp contours of his face. He moves one hand up to rub his eyes, still half shut from sleep.

“Go back to sleep, Levi,” Hange groans out. Instead, he edges closer.

“Don’t fuck with me Hange,” he grumbles tiredly, “just tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“The pain is back.”

Levi sighs. “Where?”

“In my toes.”

He looks at her as if totally and utterly confused, traces of sleep still present in his expression, until finally he speaks again.

“You don’t have any toes.”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Hange says, “but I can feel them. They feel like they’re burning or something.” She looks at him, try to convince him of the sensation, but doubt still etches his scowl.

“Hange, this is the third night this week,” Levi grumbles, running a hand through his hair.

Hange leans back against the headboards, groaning, the pain getting worse. “I must be losing my mind.”

The mattress shifts under her as Levi moves to sit in front of her. In an attempt to take the pain away, or to calm her down, he starts rubbing her thigh. “Try and sleep,” he mutters, continuing his massage. The pain ebbs, and her head starts to loll to the side.  
She wakes up that morning, the burning sensation ever present. It terrifies her. She knows it’s impossible, that she shouldn’t be able to feel anything in a part of her body that isn’t even there. Yet it still hurts, and she sits in bed until the feeling fades.  
Maybe I am going crazy, she thinks. Slowly, she shuffles over the floor, fishing around for clothes that look like they’ve been recently washed. She makes her way outside of the room to the staircase across the hall, slowly scooting her way down, greeting other soldiers as they pass. Finally, she makes her way to the broom closet, lifting herself into the blasted wheelchair. Hopefully her new prosthetics will be prepared in a few weeks.

She rolls into the kitchen, wheels clacking over the threshold. Erwin leans on the counter, a mug of coffee in hand, the dazed look on his tired face ruining the pristine look of his perfect uniform.

“Long time no see, Erwin,” she yawns, gripping the wheels of the chair in order to slow down. She skids in front of the counter, pushing up on her arms, stretching up to sift through the foodstuff on the upper shelves. “How’s life?”

He smirks at her, setting down his coffee. “Could be better,” he states, eyeing the blanket over her legs. “Do you need help?”

“Nah,” she says, her voice strained as she stretches. She flops back into the chair with a thud, tin of biscuits in hand. She waves it around victoriously, stuffing a biscuit in her mouth with a triumphant grin.

“Levi told me you were in pain.” Erwin says.

Hange’s chewing slows, looking down at her legs. “What do you mean?”

“He said your toes hurt.”

“Oh,” she says simply, looking down into the tin, picking out broken pieces from it. “It doesn’t sound normal, does it? It’s probably my mind playing tricks on me.”

“What do you mean, not normal?” Erwin says, puzzled. He raises one thick eyebrow, face twisting in confusion.

“Well,” Hange laughs, “I don’t think it’s normal to feel pain in something that isn’t even there.”

“Wait,” Erwin continues. “Did none of the doctors tell you about phantom limb?”

“I guess not,” she says, the cogs in her mind whirring silently. Her curiosity stirs, and she wheels beside Erwin, drinking in his words.

“I’m surprised they wouldn’t tell you about phantom limb pain,” Erwin says, brow furrowing. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much if it doesn’t bother you, but if it does hurt a lot I would go back to the medical ward. 

“But the pain is normal,” he reassures, gesturing to the stump on his right shoulder. “It’s strange, but it’s common. So you’re not the only one.”

Hange laughs, an invisible weight lifting off her shoulders. “Oh, that’s great.” She says. “I thought I was going mad.”

“We’re all a little mad,” Erwin says with a smirk, “but that’s not part of it, so don’t worry.”

She smacks the tin back on the counter, nudging it to the back against the wall. “I’m going to the medical ward,” she states, wheels catching on the edge of the threshold at the same time Levi slinks into the kitchen.

She runs over his toes on the way out.

#

 

“Fuck,” Hange groans, pushing herself off the floor. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Her whole body aches, arms straining to lift her entire weight. Her legs are tangled together, adjusting to the newfound weight of her prosthetics, unable to correct her position to get up again. She tries to right herself, push herself up on her feet before slamming to the floor again, groaning.

An arm reaches out to grab her shoulder. She swats it away, swearing through gritted teeth. Sweat stings in her eyes.

“Get off me,” she spits out, one hand reaching up to grab one of the bars running on either side of her. “I don’t need your help.”

“Yes you do,” Levi says, gripping her shoulder. She struggles against him, trying to wriggle out of his grip as he lifts her off the ground. “Don’t pretend you can do this by yourself in the beginning.”

“Let go of me,” she growls, ripping her arm out of his grasp. She teeters on her legs, each an intricate system of interlocking wood and metal clicking together in moving joints and supporting limbs. One hand moves out to grab each bar, the muscles in her arms shaking with the weight.

“Hange, this is only the second time you’ve tried walking,” Levi says. “I know you want to do it on your own but you can’t do that yet.”

“Shut up,” she spits.

“Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” she repeats. She pushes one leg forward, taking one unsteady step. She moves the other, only to have it catch behind the first, tripping over herself. She barely keeps her body from hitting the ground, hooking her elbow over one of the bars.

“Fuck,” she says again, furiously. Her voice wobbles through her gritted teeth, vision blurring in front of her. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“Hange,” Levi says, voice surprisingly quiet, “let people help you. If not me, let me call one of the therapists.”

“I hate this,” Hange groans, feeling herself slip off the bar. Levi’s footsteps echo as he moves around her, walking in between the bars to meet her in the middle. 

“I fucking hate this too,” Levi says, one hand reaching out towards her, “but this is the first step to getting back on your feet again. I’m sure you would rather suffer here than be stuck in these damn walls for the rest of your life.”

Hange looks up at him, strands of hair floating in her vision. She lifts one shaky arm to grab his hand, and he pulls her upright, holding her close as he helps her correct her balance. He stands in front of her, placing her hands back on the bars, taking a step back.

Hange follows him, and only realizes she’s made it to the other end when Levi is the only one supporting her.

#

 

Hange looks up at the branch above her, one hand shading her eyes from the sun. The metal attached to her sides and lower back feel heavy and cumbersome, as she adjusts to the weight of the maneuver gear hanging off her after the several months she has spent on the ground. A smirk graces her lips when she sees Levi’s face peek out from the foliage above her.

“Are you going to stay down there or are you coming up already?” Levi teases her, his usual scowl hiding the amusement on his face. Checking her balance on her legs, she aims her grappling hooks carefully, watching them sink into the wood of the branch with a satisfying thunk. In less than a second she is being pulled up, finally experiencing the feeling of the wind flying through her hair and the sensation of weightlessness in her gear after almost two years. 

Her landing is sloppy, her feet barely making a proper landing and almost slipping off the bark. Levi braces her as she rights herself. Despite the small stumble, she is completely ecstatic at being able to use her gear again, laughter spilling from her lips.

“Guess you still have a lot of work to do,” he says, his eyes skimming the straps around her legs, held down by hooks built into the prosthetics. “Although I have to admit, I’d never expected to see your fucking goggles back up here again.”

“Say what you want,” Hange laughs, “I’m still taller than you.”

Levi scowls, attempting to turn away from her. Hange grabs one of his arms, turning him back towards her, and places a wet kiss against his cheek. “Don’t be grumpy,” she chuckles, “today is a good day. We are going to have to celebrate tonight.”

She hears Levi chuckle softly behind her.

Hange walks over to the edge of the branch, spotting another tree as her next target. Before she takes aim, she glances at the small, blockish letters she had carved into the curve of her foot, forming a small list of names. Her eyes skim over Moblit’s name before she looks up again.

She takes a deep breath, aims her hooks, and flies through the air again.

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any concerns with how I portrayed Hange's injuries, PLEASE let me know so I can edit it and do justice to it. Hope you liked it!


End file.
